Enemies of the Empire

Chapter Twenty-five

Lyra was to be questioned in the optio’s rooms, where we had spoken with Lucidus earlier. Optimus dispatched his slave to have her fetched down, under guard, and he and Marcus went to wait for her.

I lingered for a moment, under the pretence of saying goodnight to my weary wife. I got Junio to assist her with her shoes and help her settle on the bed, while I relieved him of the tray. I put it on the table and poured a little of the wine into the cup he’d brought. ‘Do you think she’ll marry him?’ I asked my wife.

‘That woman who was here before? Of course she won’t. She sees him as an easy target for her wiles — no doubt he pays her handsomely enough.’ She pulled the cover over her and laughed. ‘He may be an expert with a parry-shield, but he’s no match for her. She got under his defences easily enough.’

I went to her and kissed her. ‘Just as you got under mine,’ I said. ‘Now go to sleep. We’re due to go to Isca at first light — though much depends on what we learn from Lyra. I’ll see you later, when I come to bed. Are you content to stay here on your own, or shall I leave Junio with you?’

I asked because the boy was at the door, obviously anxious to accompany me. She smiled. ‘If it’s not safe here, in a mansio, it’s not safe anywhere. There are soldiers here to guard me as I sleep. You take the boy. It’s clear he wants to go.’

I nodded, and picked up the taper from the bench, leaving Gwellia only the torchlight from the hall. It was quite dark now, and we would be glad of the glow to show our way. Junio picked up the tray again, and we tiptoed out, but Gwellia was asleep before we reached the door.

‘Master,’ Junio whispered as we crossed the court. ‘You have put very little wine into that cup. It is half full, if that. Do you want me to go back for the jug?’

‘I only want a little,’ I explained. ‘I hope it is enough. You’ll see why in a minute. Tell me, though, while we have a chance to talk alone. Gwellia says you went to Plautus’s house. Did you learn anything useful from his slaves?’

He gave a rueful sigh and shook his head. ‘Not very much. I’m sorry, master, but it didn’t happen there. It happened at his country villa, it appears — and none of the household staff were there.’

‘What exactly happened?’ We had halted in the shadows of the court.

‘Why, the accident.’ He stared at me. I’d forgotten that he didn’t know the truth.

‘Only there wasn’t one,’ I muttered hastily. ‘The man is still alive — I’ve seen him recently.’

‘No accident?’ he repeated, stupefied.

‘There might have been,’ I said. ‘Only it wasn’t Plautus who was crushed. Now, quickly, because we don’t have much time. Do you have any notion what led up to it?’ I held the taper up to see his face.

He shrugged. ‘It’s all a trifle hazy, I’m afraid. Plautus went out on business as usual that afternoon, it seems — some wealthy Roman who turned up at the house and insisted that he had to talk to him — something about shipping olive oil, I think. Gaius Plautus had a ship in port, and he volunteered to take the man to see.’ He paused. ‘Is this the sort of thing you want to know?’

I nodded. ‘Go on. Everything you know.’

‘It must have been a profitable deal, because a little afterwards he came back home, and said that he and his ship-master were going out to dine to celebrate, and then he planned to take him out to see their country house and show off the extension he was having built. He could afford a finer building now, he said, and he wanted to look at it tonight so he could discuss the changes that he had in mind with his master architect before the men came in and started work next day. He was obviously excited, or a little drunk, they said. His wife was unwilling to agree to it — it was far too late to ride out there, she said, even with a hired vehicle — but he was adamant. You couldn’t argue with him when he got like that.’

‘And?’ I prompted.

‘It seems they went — there are lots of witnesses to that. The two men dined together at the oil-guild club and then they hired a cart. They took some pottery with them that they’d shipped in from Gaul, and got the driver to assist them to put it in the house. Plautus had a page with him, but he was very young and not especially strong, so they left him to watch the horse and the cart. They went out in the garden — all three of them. The driver was asked to bring his brand to light the way, and Plautus lit a travelling oil lamp from the flame. There was a new wall there, apparently, and a pile of stones — Plautus commented that it was dangerous. They went back to the carriage, but he changed his mind and went back alone with the lamp to have another look. He was gone for simply ages — so the driver said — and in the end they went to have a look. They found his corpse — or somebody’s — right underneath the wall, as if the stones had all collapsed on it. The boat-master sent the others off for help, and that is all I know. They pressed the page-boy and the driver afterwards — literally pressed them, with stones on the chest — but all the stories tallied perfectly.’

‘So if some enemy had been waiting in the house,’ I said, ‘Plautus might have killed him and had time to disappear.’

Junio looked doubtful. ‘I suppose so. I hadn’t thought of that. What makes you think that might have been the case?’

‘I think he might have got himself mixed up in something dangerous,’ I said. ‘Plautus was not the only Silurian Roman citizen to disappear at that time. There was a man called Claudinus as well, who went to Glevum round about then and has not been heard of since. It is known that he was seeking to take a ship to Gaul — an olive-oil ship was mentioned, I understand. He had vital information about the rebels here — something that would crush them utterly — and I believe that they were on his track. Suppose he was Plautus’s visitor? It would make a kind of sense. Plautus could help him to get passage on the ship — he may have been offered a handsome bribe, which would explain the unexpected wealth — but Claudinus was being followed, I am sure of that. Once Plautus was involved with him, he was in danger too — and if he talked publicly of going out to his country house that night, it would not be difficult to lie in wait.’

‘So Plautus killed his would-be murderer and pulled the wall on him — crushing the body to disguise the face? I suppose that might be possible, though he wouldn’t have much time. The others were still waiting in the cart.’

I’d thought of that. ‘They were all his servants, weren’t they, in some capacity? They wouldn’t dare to come till they were called, or at least till they were seriously alarmed.’

‘But why do it anyway? Why not go back to them and say he’d been attacked?’

I shook my head. ‘Some of these local feuds go back a long, long way,’ I said. ‘I think the hit-man was from Venta, and Plautus knew he was. I suspect he came back here to seek revenge. It’s probable Claudinus was murdered before he sailed. Perhaps he really got away to Gaul and has not yet reached the Emperor with his news. More likely he is dead. His arm-guard was seen in Venta on a market stall. If so, that threat has been removed. But if Plautus knew his secret, or the rebels even thought he did, he would be hunted down. Nobody could rest till he was dead.’

Junio nodded with such vigour that he nearly spilt the wine. ‘But if he staged his death. .’

‘Exactly. And if he knew where to find the evidence Claudinus found and could get it safely to the Emperor — in one of his oil boats perhaps — then later he could safely reappear, and expect rewards and honours from the Emperor, while all his enemies expired in jail. In his place I might have done the same.’

‘And what has Lyra got to do with it?’

‘I think she’s got everything to do with it. I think the lady plays a double game and, what’s more, I think that Plautus knows. That may have been the secret that Claudinus knew — and why he didn’t report it to the garrison here. I knew long ago that she had links with both factions in the town, but at the time I didn’t see the half of it. She hires premises on this side of town, respectable, prosperous and well disposed to Rome; but her legal patron is a butcher from the bath-house end, where the sympathies are on the rebel side. In fact, she owns his building, I have since found out — which suggests that he is in her pay, rather than the other way about.’

Junio was nodding, to show he understood.

‘This butcher goes into the countryside once or twice each moon. Nobody thinks anything of that. But suppose he is a channel to the rebel hide-outs there? I’ve learned tonight that he was in the forest yesterday. There are few farms out there.’

‘You think he’s in communication with the rebels, then? He takes them food, perhaps?’

‘And information too — about the movements of supply-trains and when small parties of Roman troops and horses are likely to be moving on the roads. And where does the information come from? Some from the soldiers who visit the wolf-house every day. But most of all, from the optio himself, whispering sweet nothings into Lyra’s ear. She even persuaded him to bring her here, so she knows everything that goes on in the mansio, and where the messengers are going and why. And the poor fool supposes that she comes for love of him.’

Junio gave a low whistle. ‘It’s a clever system — he has to keep it secret on his own account.’

‘She’s a clever girl. Quick-thinking and intelligent. She’s proved that all along. It won’t be easy to persuade her to betray herself, but that’s what I’ll have to do. I’ve not a shred of evidence for this — Marcus won’t move on hypothesis alone. The optio will release her if he can, but once she knows that I suspect her she will raise the alarm, and then the gang will melt away and none of them will ever be caught.’

‘And Plautus?’

‘He may be in mortal danger as we speak. I think he’s sought asylum with the Silurian chief who owns the land where Lyra’s brothel is. Of course, once she knows that he is there she will be on his trail. That butcher friend of hers is in the area, I know — and as the optio said, who’d notice a few more bloodstains on his clothes? Let’s hope we’re not too late. But here she comes. And not very happy, by the look of it.’

She was more than unhappy, she was furious. Gone was the elaborate and exotic face-paint which she’d flaunted earlier. Her face was streaked and swollen, as if there had been tears, and her hair and clothes suggested that she’d been struggling very hard. And shouting, possibly, because someone had forced a rag into her mouth to gag her, and she was being marched along with her two hands bound in front of her. The burly soldier on one side of her tugged at that rope-end, while the other held the noose round her neck.

Even then, she was protesting, lashing at them with her elbows when she could. Despite myself I felt a kind of admiration for her spirit. She saw us in the shadows and her manner changed at once. She drew herself upright, as much as her plight permitted her to do, and she walked with her head held in the air. She looked deliberately towards me and met my eyes.

The soldier with the noose released the rope, strode over and knocked twice on the optio’s door. It opened instantly. She looked at me again, and as she was led past us into the lighted room, I swear she actually contrived to sway her hips.

I gave a sign to Junio and we walked in after her.